A Satire By B.D. Gallof
Battle of Ontario
I awaken lying on the blue line in the Air Canada Center, trussed up with video cord. Colin Campbell stands in his hockey barb, skating circles around me. Once he sees that I am awake, he skates over to a Zamboni that is at the home team’s end of the ice.
“This Zamboni is remote controlled, and is specially designed to remove annoying bloggers from existence.”
As he says this, I can clearly see long bloody blades on the front of it, each with dried blood still on it.
“You’ll never get away with this, Colin!” I shout. “Crime doesn’t pay”
I must be still punch drunk from using that line. I need to gather my wits, and fast.
The Zamboni begins moving towards me, the deadly blades scraping the Maple Leaf ice.
And I think to myself, crappy ice might actually help them since Toronto hasn’t had a solid goalie to truly rally behind since Curtis Joseph was allowed to sign elsewhere. Yes, they had Belfour for a stint, but after being flushed out of the following years playoffs in the 1st round, Belfour really wasn’t the answer, and they slid ever since. Could a true number one goalie be the answer to righting this wronged ship? Certainly couldn’t hurt. In fact, when is the last time Toronto had a homegrown goalie or at least a true #1 in his prime since Cujo? Toronto rumors were abound when Luongo was available, but no deal could be made. With Backstrom rumored to be available in Minnie, and Al Montoya in the wings in New York, along with a glut of goalies in Anahiem and San Jose, Toronto will have to pull the trigger eventually…and it just might be what the doctor ordered.
My hockey analyst reverie is disturbed as Colin Campbell suddenly looks up into the seats.
“Damn them!” he breathes and backs away.
My enforcers have found me. Dave Brown, Tiger Williams, Tie Domi, Bob Probert, Joey Kocur, Wayne Cashman…and a VERY pissed off Dave Semenko, my personal bodyguard. They are coming down from the seats. Gloves off. Shirts loose. Ready for some bashing.
It looks bleak for our VP of Hockey Operations. But looks can be deceiving.
Colin blows a whistle shrilly, and suddenly from out from the locker room comes a goon squad of oversized meatballs wearing hockey referee outfits.
“My personal referee bodyguards,” laughs Colin shrilly. “Go get’em boys!”
I suddenly hear some familiar music through the Air Canada Center’s loudspeakers. So familiar….Dun dun dah dun, dun dun dah dun, dooo dooo dooooooo dooo…it’s on the tip of my tongue.
But it is interrupted as my team finally lumbers to the ice. New NHL speed they are not.
[b]POW![/b]
Tiger Williams plunges his meaty fist into one ref, knocking him into two others. All three go down in a heap.
[b]WHAM!!!!![/b]
Joey Kocur launches a fist from last week and knocks another ref into Clutching and Grabbing 18.
[b]ZOWIE!!!!!![/b]
Wayne Cashman twirls a ref by his shirt and into a gaggle of them with the succinct sound of a bowling ball hitting pins.
"Holy blades of glory, Gallof!" exclaims Doctor Teeth, coming down behind them. He struggles to untie me with his little puppet piano playing fingers. The Zamboni is coming closer, the blades starting to chop down noisily back and forth.
[b]BAFF![/b]
Bob Probert has Colin Campbell tied-up in his own hockey jersey over his head.
[b]SPLAT!!!!!!![/b]
Colin lands on top of a pile of ref goons.
Doctor Teeth has freed me, and I am pulled suddenly by Sammy Semenko from those onrushing blades.
“Don’t forget Doctor Teeth,” I yell, but can’t see anything since I am slung over his shoulders as we make our escape. We leave the Air Canada Center with the refs and Colin still moaning and groaning, the Zamboni now turned towards them, chugging along gleefully.
We need to get out of Toronto fast and hit the road. Our mission was far from over.
Dun dun dah dun, dun dun dah dun, dooo dooo dooooooo dooo….
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